A/N: - This fic pulls mostly from FE12 (New Mystery of the Emblem: Heroes of Light and Shadow) and contains spoilers for it.
- Thanks to Measured, Max, and Angela for giving me advice and encouragement.
- A sequel is in the works, provided I finish it.
- The gender-neutral pronouns I use for Xane are xe/xem/xir/xirs/xirself, pronounced 'zee/zem/zeer/zeers/zeerself':
Xe wears a feather headband.
It is xir feather headband.
The feather headband belongs to xem.
The feather headband is xirs.
Xane picked the feather headband out xirself.
In real life xe pronouns were invented in the 1970s, but my in-universe headcanon is that Xane modified them from a dragon pronoun set.
Marth's been dead for a dozen years when Xane steals the Aum Staff. The idea's been brewing for a while, as Xane sometimes thinks that if only mortality were thrown out the window, xe wouldn't be lonely. Of course, that isn't true—Xane is still too different, and humans too disappointing. Besides, raising the dead sounds like a hassle.
Xane isn't sure exactly when this changed. It might have been when Marth rescued Xane from imprisonment. Xane hadn't exactly swooned, but a human who would actually aid xem spiked xir interest, especially when learning what Xane could do didn't make Marth treat xir like a freak. Then again, it might not have been until Xane guided Marth through Anri's Way and realized xe would have done so even without Gotoh's orders…or it might have been after that war was over, when Xane found xirself returning to Castle Altea again and again as a guard, a maid, a troubadour.
Whatever the case, Marth's early death leaves a bigger hole than usual, and Xane derides xirself for getting attached. Adding to the sting is the fact that Marth was assassinated. Knowing firsthand how gullible his knights can be, Xane spends many nights regretting not giving him more warning, or even staying on as a castle spy.
Still, it isn't as if going out of xir way to add a few years onto a human's life will do much in the long run. Xane tells xirself that even as xe shifts into a thief's body and picks the lock to the chest holding the Aum Staff.
When Xane returns to the abandoned fort on the edge of the desert where xe's been staying, xe makes no move to use the staff. Why rush? Even if this were a good idea, xe has all the time in the world. It's pretty on the mantel, all gold with red tassels. Matches xir outfit.
A decade passes. Marth's niece has taken the throne; he and Caeda never had children, well enough given his death. Xane doesn't go to see her.
Another decade. Xane's ventures out of the desert become few, and xe barely knows how well the heir is ruling. Xane's visit to the graveyard of fire dragons chills xir despite the heat; the place seems frozen in time compared to the rest of the world. There was a time in Marth's army that Xane became slightly more optimistic about humans, but one encounter with the fire clan without Marth at xir side stamps that out.
Another decade passes, or maybe two, but Xane isn't counting. Despite xir boredom xe barely sees the point of leaving the fort these days, as all that's waiting is the realm of dragons on one side and that of humans on the other. Tiki's asleep, Bantu's off somewhere, and Xane's not running errands for Lord Gotoh. More and more, Xane sleeps to escape. Xane's no stranger to nightmares, even if not on Tiki's scale, but as time passes, xir dreams diversify.
In one, Xane is a dragon again, wasting away at the dragon's graveyard when Marth travels through. All Xane's body can recognize is an intruder, even as what's left of xir mind screams at xir claws to stop. In another, Xane is back in the prison, waiting to be rescued. Xe isn't.
The dream that breaks Xane is nothing so dramatic. Marth and Tiki sit by a fire, Tiki half-curled on Marth's lap while he tells stories. Watching, Xane tends the fire, feeling no urge to participate but no barrier from doing so. When Tiki falls asleep, she doesn't quiver. Absently Marth strokes her hair, meeting Xane's eyes and smiling.
When Xane wakes, xe's trembling. Xe prides xirself, if nothing else, on control over xir body, but the tremors don't stop, and Xane gets up and walks to the mantel as if still in a dream. The Aum Staff slips from xir sweaty palms, clattering on the floor. Xe snatches it up and holds it tight, thanking Naga it's not as fragile as it looks.
Xane waits until xe's regained composure; xe'll have to be guarded before inviting company. Once xir head has cleared, Xane wonders what xe was thinking. In all these years, xe hasn't planned this, not really. Xane has no idea what will happen.
The dream comes back in snippets, just gentle and safe enough to hurt. What is Xane planning to do for the rest of the century, or the next? Xe doesn't even have someone to imitate these days.
So without thinking further, Xane becomes a princess. Xe chooses Elice, because hey, Marth's sister welcoming him home, how nice for him. She died many years after he did. Xane heard her husband went a year later.
Not trusting xir imitations as well without the person present, Xane checks in a mirror, startled by what xe finds. The blue hair framing xir face is so reminiscent (of course it is; xe just hadn't thought). Xane raises the staff.
The top glows. Magic always makes Xane tingle, healing especially, but there's something different about the Aum staff, a million needles that sew knots in Xane's gut and then tear them out one by one.
A body begins to take shape on the floor, encased in a silvery light that makes Xane shut xir eyes. The needles are pulling Xane's insides out, pricking xir skin from the tip of xir nose down to xir heels. Just as Xane thinks xe's about to hurl, whatever's invaded xir body recedes, leaving it feeling empty. Xane's knees hit the ground before xe opens xir eyes. When xe does, Marth's full form has been stitched together and lies motionlessly among the shattered pieces of glass and wood.
Xane waits. Marth—if it's really him—doesn't move. Xane's fingers drum against the floor, then crawl over to the corpse's abdomen and begin to tickle. Marth's shoulders twitch, his eyelids scrunching before fluttering open, stretching wide, then wider. Xane smiles.
"Hey there, princey."
Marth's eyes don't narrow, his mouth hanging open without moving to respond. Catching a glimpse in the mirror, Xane realizes that half—and only half—of xem is still Elice, creating the image of a doll sewed morbidly together. Xane laughs and returns to normal.
It takes a while for Marth to figure out what happened; his reactions are slow, his words slurred as if under the influence of a drug, and Xane's more interested in prodding and teasing than giving proper explanations. When Marth finally seems to get it, all he asks is, "Why?"
The hands on Xane's knees tense. Xane's settled into a cross-legged position beside Marth, who's propped onto his elbows and looking at xem with innocent confusion. All at once Xane remembers that xe hadn't thought this possible and thus didn't dare to express more to Marth than a lack of antagonism. Xane wipes xir palms on xir pants.
"I was bored," Xane offers, shifting xir hands to the floor so xe can lean back. Marth doesn't seem to think it's worth pursuing, instead touching the left side of his chest.
"I don't remember dying. I mean, I don't remember how…"
Before remembering there's a mirror nearby, Xane shifts into a reflection of Marth. It only takes a second for Marth's eyes to drift to 'his' neck, his hand leaping to his throat to cover the gash there.
"I must have been sleeping," he says after a pause to examine the rest of his face, no doubt noticing his grey skin, the stray silver hairs, and the way the lines around his eyes run deeper than any thirty-something-year-old's should.
"Yeah, and your guards, too." The bitterness doesn't quite rub off Xane's tongue.
"They weren't killed as well, were they?" Marth asks.
"Just drugged, from what I know." The instant relief in Marth's eyes almost makes Xane shake xir head, though not in blame.
Marth asks about the rest of his knights, his family, his country. As he realizes how much time has passed, his face seems to become—if possible—greyer, and Xane quickly attempts to brighten it. Xane hasn't been out much, xe admits, so the two of them can go on a trip, see the world for themselves. Won't Marth's niece just fall over in surprise? It'll be a laugh. She has kids; Marth can meet them. They'll visit Tiki. She has to wake up sometime, and she'll be so happy.
None of this seems to reach Marth. Xane's begun rocking back and forth; xe slows, then stops. Marth rubs the bridge of his nose.
"Xane, I'm dead. How can I intrude upon the world I left behind after everyone's moved on?"
Xane wraps xir sash around xir finger, looking at it so xe doesn't have to look at him. 'Everyone.' Thanks. "You want me to send ya back, then?"
"No, I suppose you couldn't really do that," Marth says, a hint of epiphany in his tone, as if he's finally realizing he's not just visiting for dinner but will have to figure out what to do with the rest of another life.
Without responding, Xane gets up and stretches, glancing out the window at the sun rising over the sand. Xe's realizing the same thing.
xxxxxxx
It takes a while for Marth to be able to sit up and longer for him to stand or walk. Watching him stumble makes Xane recall xir brief time as a manakete, struggling to get used to the fact that human arms are no use as a second pair of legs. Balancing without a tail was the hardest thing. In comparison, switching between the forms of a human child and adult is nothing.
They stay in the fort, safely away from bandits and dragons. Marth runs his hands over the stone of the walls, then stares at his palms with a wrinkled brow before doing it again.
"It looks rough," he says.
"It is."
Marth drops his hands.
That his body isn't human is obvious; it won't accept food, and he doesn't need sleep. He tries anyway, but Xane watches him lie awake and stare at the wall, the window, the floor.
Xane chatters to him about increasingly inane subjects, anything to get him to talk or smile. Marth says little beyond polite murmurs, until Xane's words grow fewer in between bouts of restless pacing.
To Xane's dismay, pranks are no fun. Marth reacts to little except Xane becoming any of their dead comrades, which earns horrified looks. Xane tries several; Merric and Tiki tell Marth to cheer up while Jagan and Elice offer tough love. When murmurs of adoration from Caeda make Marth snap, Xane backs off and lies down on the other side of the room, listening to Marth's uneven breaths.
Being with people is lonely, Xane remembers now.
xxxxxxx
Over the course of a fortnight, Marth works his way up to basic sword practice. Xane perches on the windowsill and watches, kicking xir legs. Marth got to this point by way of cleaning and organizing every part of the fort, and he had just begun trying to fix a cabinet Xane had long since given up on. "You sure work hard for someone who got an out from all his responsibilities," Xane remarks. Marth waits until he's finished a set to answer.
"I'm Altea's king—Archanea's emperor. I can't just set that aside so easily. Besides, I've been helpless to protect too many already; I'll not get lax and find myself in that situation again." It's too serious a response for Xane to play with, though privately xe wonders who Marth is expecting to protect at this point.
Marth's breathing is labored, but he barely sweats, even under the desert heat. Xane wonders if that's why Marth picks the sword back up and starts again when a human should have needed a break.
When Marth is again capable of more complicated moves, he announces that he'd like to go out and check on the state of the world, as he can't stand knowing so little about the current political situation. Xane jumps at the chance; xe's stayed in the fort long enough to hate the grey walls and endless sand. While Marth would like to see Tiki, waking her could be dangerous, and neither of them is sure how the meeting would affect her perception of human mortality, so they leave the desert in the direction of the former nation of Altea.
Master of camouflage that Xane is, xe assures Marth that xe can guide him without anyone the wiser. They hide Marth in a cloak and a mask resembling a butterfly that Xane found once in the desert, fabricating a tale about him suffering from a contagious illness. Xane takes the form of a cleric in charge of Marth's healing, and Xane's increasingly exaggerated descriptions of Marth's symptoms are enough to keep people away.
"When you think about it, I'm actually puttin' it mildly," Xane says one night after they've made camp. "I mean, bein' dead's way more severe than purple skin." While Marth still seems uncomfortable with the lies, he stops objecting after Xane points out that they can tell the truth if Marth prefers.
The fire crackles. Marth doesn't shiver at night, but he huddles around it regardless, and Xane drapes a blanket over his shoulders.
As Marth can't sleep and Xane doesn't want to, they sit up, Marth commenting on the travelers they've come across and the next day's route. When that conversation trails off, Marth clears his throat.
"I admit, I'm still a bit confused."
"About what?" Xane asks.
"About why you're doing this. You don't seem to have a plan, and the Aum staff is no casual matter, even for you."
Xane draws xir knees in, digging xir toes into the sand. "Maybe livin' for centuries makes someone a little sick of not controllin' life and death."
"I suppose I could understand that, but why me? Surely you've met hundreds of people."
Yeah, and most of them ain't worth half your left pinky. Xane's toes press, squishing the sand. It's cool between them, though will be irritating to wash off. "Thirty's short, even for humans. Besides, I already told you, you're…different."
Xane fidgets and looks away. Even if xe doesn't reveal what's at xir core, peeling back any layer makes xem feel vulnerable. If someone were to scoop out a piece of what they find, Xane would live a long time without getting it back.
Before Marth can respond, Xane changes the subject. "Well, y'think we can make it to Altea within a fortnight? Travelin's a lot faster without an army in tow."
xxxxxxx
The journey takes longer than Xane predicted, partly because Xane has no sense of time and partly because Marth is surprisingly slow. Xane always forgets how much humans are hindered by terrain, and though Marth is no longer affected by the hot days and cold nights, his boots sink into the sand. He's constantly stopping to look around, and he pauses each time a decision needs making. Frequently he'll ask about supplies despite the fact that the two of them need little besides water and Xane's food, which xe takes care of. Eventually Xane works out that he's not used to traveling without an entourage, always needing to keep track of a group and call meetings with his advisors at every turn. It seems like a bother to Xane, but without it, Marth looks lost.
At first they encounter only occasional travelers, as bandits inhabit the area, and Marth remains quiet. The closer he gets to civilization, the livelier he becomes, spending evenings guessing at what changes the world might have gone through. Before his death he'd been trying to establish trade with Gra, and a corner of Aurelis was fighting to secede. Did Khadein ever share the store of knowledge with Archanea that Merric and Elise had been petitioning for? The list encompasses everything from crop yields to advancements in sailing technology, and Xane thinks it's no wonder Marth never laughs with all this crammed in his head.
Marth wonders especially about his heir, Merric and Elise's daughter, Wendy, who'd been a controversial pick but one he'd insisted upon as he and Caeda couldn't bear children. At first he only discusses the political situation he left behind for her to clean up. She was little more than a toddler when he died, and Caeda handled much before she came of age. Marth confesses to feeling guilt for placing that pressure on them, especially as he'd left so soon and unexpectedly.
"Some of my last memories were of Wendy sitting in my lap and reaching for my crown," he says with his eyes closed. His hands rest on his knees, his elbows spread wide as if making room. "Those little fingers had quite the grip."
The image makes Xane think of Tiki, who xe hasn't wanted to think about since the gap between Marth's death and her return to sleep. Xane draws a line in the ashes around the fire.
They soon douse it; Marth's coming to terms with the fact that he doesn't need it, and the smoke could draw bandits' attention. A half moon, a smattering of stars, and fireflies give just enough light. Xane points out constellations named centuries ago, before the dragon clan began to die; human mages have since come up with a different set.
"We still have that one," Marth says when Xane identifies a couple of arcs that come together at a point—a dragon wing, according to legend. "Merric taught me. We call it—"
Xane's lying on xir back, arms folded behind xir head, and while xe can't see it xe can picture Marth's mouth snapping shut. Xane stretches a leg out. "That's the astronomer," Xane comments mildly. "Named for a dragon who studied the stars."
"I…I'm sorry." Without the fire, the only sounds are those of bugs, more of a low buzz than the chirps of grass insects. A hawk cries as it passes over them. "It was a long time ago that he told me."
After a moment, Xane sighs and sits up, finding the stick xe'd been drawing with and patting the ground beside xem. "Not your fault, I guess. C'mere, I'll give you the lowdown."
Xane's history lessons become a nightly event, as Marth is eager to learn and Xane won't admit how taxing it is to think back that far. Xe can't resist throwing in false trivia to see how Marth will react, though it backfires when Marth begins to cast suspicious looks during perfectly true stories. Xane isn't sure if xe is disappointed or proud that Marth isn't trusting blindly.
It's just as well that Xane has Marth examining history, as since Khadein is on the way to Archanea, Xane isn't free of deserts just yet. Thankfully Xane likes being in Khadein, as the buildings have higher ceilings than most human settlements, making Xane feel less trapped. The library the pair settles in is no exception, with shelves built high enough against to require ladders to reach the top sections. The one wall supporting no shelves is covered in maps from different eras; the only windows are on the ceiling, casting a grid-like pattern of shadows over the room which long tables are fitted in between.
While Marth studies historical texts, Xane looks into resurrection. Admittedly xe hasn't done so before now, as xe assumes it isn't done enough for there to be useful literature on the subject. Most of what exists is a warning against researching it, as in the wrong hands the ability to raise large amounts of the dead would be ruinous—thus the Aum Staff's limited use, entrusted only to princesses, who are apparently assumed to have pure intentions.
Xane slips the book back onto the shelf and glances over at Marth, who's examining a scroll. Xane's not the type to use xir abilities for world domination, but xe isn't sure xir intentions can be considered 'pure,' either.
Tearing xir eyes away, Xane sizes up the rest of the room's inhabitants. A mentor and student are engaged in hushed conversation at the other side. When Xane ambles in that direction to eavesdrop, xe determines that the conversation is only being conducted so privately out of consideration for the otherwise silent room. Xane scratches xir foot against xir ankle. A room with a couple dozen inhabitants shouldn't be so quiet, Xane thinks; xe waited until it was full to enter, as crowds make it easier to blend in. The city has no doubt seen all manner of mysterious beings over the years, so Marth and Xane don't stand out as much as they might have, but Xane can't help but feel that some of the mages peering at them over their books can feel something is wrong, maybe even guess at what.
When light no longer streams in through the ceiling, they leave for the quarters they've arranged for the night. Nobody gives them trouble or asks questions when they ask for a private room, but they make little eye contact with Xane and none with Marth. Xane suspects Lord Gotoh is aware of what they're doing and looking after them, though nothing confirms it.
Marth's brow is furrowed when he removes his mask. "Studying go well?" Xane asks.
"It gave me much to think about." Marth sits against the wall to do so—it doesn't seem to occur to him that switching to a bed would be more comfortable, and Xane says nothing. "Are you aware how few records credit dragons for, well…"
"Anything?"
"Yes."
"It wasn't hard for humans to 'discover' things, especially mages researchin' in the desert."
"I just hadn't realized how much dated back to dragons at their peak until you told me. I know not all history is accurate, but I'm surprised that Lord Gotoh wouldn't monitor this."
"Oh, Lord Gotoh's responsible for some of it. He thought censorin' things would help 'avoid conflict.' Now, if you ask me, he gave humans too much. That's how that disaster with Gharnef started, y'know. You already know the story about how he threw away his dragon stone and founded this place."
Xane's still standing, having sat long enough in the library. Marth's been staring at his knees, but he looks up at Xane now. "You did too, though, didn't you? You weren't involved in this at all?"
Xane scuffs a shoe against the tile. "I never planned to live with humans. I just didn't wanna lose my mind like the dragons that degenerated."
Xe can almost convince xirself it's the whole truth; only distant memories remain of trying to fit in with humans, of failing. Xane looks at the potted plant in the corner, a leafy variety that only grows in the tropics without magical intervention, and suddenly wants to be anywhere else. No matter how it turned out, the fact that Lord Gotoh managed to build this place of humans, to teach and live with them while Xane drifted has always been a source of envy.
"I found several works published by Merric," Marth says, making Xane start. "It was all magical theory—nothing I really understand. It's just…"
Marth's chin has drooped, and Xane can feel xir own shoulders dropping. Xe lowers xirself to the floor. "Seeing the legacy of people you've known firsthand ain't somethin' humans experience every day, huh?"
Marth nods, saying no more on the subject. It hits Xane that back when xe thought there was no rush to revive Marth, xe was only thinking of xirself. It's almost ironic, after all that humans have taken from dragons, for a dragon to displace this human. Not pure, after all, xe thinks.
Still, the urge to flee from the city is gone, so Xane can't bring xirself to add this to the pile of forgotten regrets.